Lockhart's Legacy (Vespari Lockhart Book 1) (6 page)

Even if he got off another shot, those talons would still tear him to shreds. With this in mind, Lockhart dove out of the way, landing hard on a rockier than desired stretch of ground. Rolling away, he got to his feet as soon as possible. His experience and learning all flashed before him. A simple runed bullet could kill any vishler. You just had to land it in the exact right spot.

At the core of that self-made skeleton was an organ - a heart that stretched out to all those bones.  The skeleton was just armor, protection against beasts, humans, and other monsters alike. If the bullet didn’t penetrate the creature underneath, it would have no effect on the vishler other than making it discard one of its collected bones.

Looking at the bone-encased thing, now recovering from its missed lunge and turning about on him, Lockhart couldn’t say for certain where the creature’s heart was inside that skeleton. This was usually their biggest and most impressive bone. That had been the longhorn skull, but clearly, he’d been wrong.

There had to be some other indication though. Each vishler started somewhere. They were most often born in graveyards, battlefields, or anywhere else a body might be abandoned, surrounded by all those bones. It was in these bones that the vishler first came into being. He’d found that sometimes a vishler could be sentimental, forming an attachment to not its biggest bones but rather its oldest.

That initial set of bones it collected was where the organ first developed. Focusing on this, Lockhart examined the vishler’s skeleton as best he could in the starlit night. He scoured the various bones, searching for the oldest looking ones. That was where the heart had to be.

Lockhart didn’t have that kind of time though. The vishler was nearly on him again. He fired another shot, this time aiming for one of the enormous femurs. If he couldn’t kill it, he would cripple the creature to buy him more time. Pulling the trigger, Lockhart watched as the femur splintered in a tiny explosion of bone fragments. The vishler stumbled and fell to the ground, but held itself up with its long arms. It abandoned the femur and kept moving.

During this brief fall, Lockhart got a better look at the belt of skulls dangling around the vishler’s waist. Among the other skulls there, the vespari saw a small lizard’s head. The teeth had long since come loose and fallen off. The bone had decayed more than the others around it. The desert sun had bleached this skull more than anything else. That had to be the first bone the vishler took.

As the creature got back to its feet, new bones moving to replace the shattered femur, Lockhart took aim once more. Three bullets, he thought. Three bullets to kill one vishler. He had no choice. The vespari fired the third shot, smashing the lizard skull.

Black blood exploded from the tiny skull, as all the other bones collapsed to the ground. Unlike its feigned death, this time the vishler’s bones all separated from one another, splaying out before Lockhart.

Again, the vespari waited for the essence. He waited for the sensation to flow into him. With a vishler kill, a vespari could expect one of the more peculiar effects that the monsters passed on. As the vishler was nothing more than a single bloody organ, using bones, vines, and weeds to assemble a body, it had the ability to finely control its makeshift limbs. For the vespari that killed it, this translated into a better understanding of their own bodies. It didn’t make them stronger, faster, or smarter. The energy just allowed the vespari to better understand their own body.

There was nothing though. Just as with the harpy, Lockhart felt nothing. It had to be the Caustic Brand, he decided. It had to be interfering with his ability to gather his kills’ essences and grow stronger.

Ignoring all that for the moment, he stepped past the other bones to find the lizard skull and what remained of the vishler’s heart. He found the heart under a pile of ribs, but there was nothing left of the lizard skull but shattered fragments. That was fine. He didn’t need it.

Lockhart did need the heart though, runed bullet still lodged within. The black blood continued to ooze out for some time, and not wishing to dirty his hands any more than necessary, he scooped it into the mason jar that he’d stored Mr. Brown’s intestines inside. He stared at it for a moment. This vishler had been special. Maybe it would go into the notebook after all. He’d never encountered one that faked its death like that before.

He’d detail it later when there was more light. In the morning, after he’d returned to Abilene and acquired his payment. He would use the heart as evidence for the kill. In case that wasn’t enough, he also grabbed the longhorn skull and dragged it back to his extinguished campfire. Dropping both items there, Lockhart collapsed to the ground, exhausted and needing sleep. Despite the danger he’d just been in, the vespari drifted off.

***

The early morning light brought Lockhart an ache in his back, but it was nothing new for him after years of sleeping under the stars. The rumbling in his gut concerned him more, but he didn’t have anything to eat. The stew and the rock candy from the previous day didn’t last like he would’ve liked. He attempted to satisfy himself with a big drink of water from his canteen. It would have to do for the time being. He’d have to wait until he made it back to town before he got another proper meal. That’d be fine, as he knew he’d be heading that way momentarily. He performed a few morning rituals, got his things together, and set off as soon as he could.

The trek back to town didn’t take long, and he’d arrived there before the sun reached its highest point. Eager to get onto tracking the beldam coven, he headed straight for where he expected the mayor to be to get his due payment. On his last visit to Abilene, he’d spotted a town hall. Expecting her to be there, Lockhart carried the skull and mason jar through town in that direction. He got a fair number of strange looks from the few people walking through, but Abilene was not a heavily populated place, so there weren’t many to contend with.

Even still, the vespari ignored them and continued to the town hall. Stepping inside, he found a young clerk behind a desk. The man had a pair of small, circular frames drooping down on his nose, and he sifted through papers before him, ignoring Lockhart’s entrance altogether. Lockhart walked up to the clerk and plopped the longhorn skull and mason jar with the vishler heart on the desk.

The clerk jumped and looked up at Lockhart. Then his eyes drifted down to the remains of the monster. Lockhart removed the vespari emblem from his belt and flashed it at the man.

“You?” he asked, his eyes finally drifting up to Lockhart’s. “The vespari?”

Lockhart nodded and then looked behind the young man.

“The mayor isn’t here,” the clerk said.

“W-w-where?” Lockhart asked.

“Saloon probably.” He pointed in its direction. “Gambling more than likely.”

“You g-gonna pay me?”

The clerk shook his head. “I’m afraid Mayor Knox will have to attend to that.”

Lockhart sighed and picked up the longhorn skull and heart. The clerk slunk down in his chair but didn’t say anything else. Needing to get paid, the vespari turned and left the town hall. His next stop had to be the saloon then.

Trudging through the town once again, Lockhart made his way to the saloon and passed through its swinging doors. Despite being a place for drink and gambling, the saloon was a dark and somber locale. No one played cards. No one really conversed. They all just tended their drinks, affected by the deaths if he were to guess. Maybe with the creature’s destruction, they could return to some semblance of normalcy. The wastes were a harsh place though, so these kinds of attacks were simply a way of life for them. It made people hard. Reserved.

Regardless, Lockhart needed to get paid and be on his way. Spotting Mayor Knox at the bar, the vespari approached her and sat on the wooden stool beside her. He gently placed the items up on the counter beside her mug of beer. Knox looked over at them and then to him.

“That’s it?” she asked.

He nodded.

“Such a little thing…” she said, eyeing the mason jar and trailing off. “Well. Good. I guess it’s over.”

“P-p-payment,” he told her.

Knox nodded. “Right.” She began fishing through her breast pocket with two fingers. “You’ve earned it.”

Before she’d retrieved the silver rounds, the bartender approached them.

“What can I get you?” he asked.

Mayor Knox answered for him, having finished grabbing his payment. “Get him a beer, Ralph. On me.” She looked at him. “And you’ve got to be hungry.” Back to the bartender. “You still got any of that smoked pork?”

Ralph nodded.

“Bring him some of that too.”

Lockhart didn’t argue. He could use a good meal, and a drink wouldn’t bother him either.

“Sure thing,” the bartender said, grabbing a mug and filling to the brim.

He sat the beer on the counter in front of Lockhart and disappeared to a back room. Knox placed the four silver rounds on the counter and slid them to him. The vespari picked the coins up and dropped them into his coin pouch. The mayor then grabbed the promised slivers from her pants pocket and handed them to him as well. He tossed those in a separate pocket of his duster to deal with later. Finished with his payment, he grabbed the mug and held it over to Knox.

“Ch-ch-cheers,” he told her.

The mayor clinked her glass against his, and they both took a heavy swig.

“Ralph’s got a smokehouse out back,” Knox told him. “Pretty adept with it too. Nearly freezes the meat. Salts it. Sugar too sometimes. Didn’t have any for this batch though. Says he uses corncobs to fuel the fire. Can’t say I know why. Process takes a while, but it’s worth it.”

As she finished the explanation, the bartender came back with a plate of the smoked pork. He’d even included a cob of corn to go with it. Lockhart nodded in thanks, as the man sat it down, and he quickly dug into his food. Knox allowed him a few minutes to work on it before saying anything else.

“Was it a hard kill?”

Lockhart shook his head. “I g-g-g-got by.”

“Good. Good. I guess you’ll be moving on now?”

He nodded, taking another bite followed by a big swig. “Need s-some s-s-supplies first.”

“Mm. You’ll want to talk to Brigette then. She runs the general store. If anyone has what you need, it’ll be her.”

Lockhart nodded and set to finishing his meal and drink. Knox spent most of that time examining the skull and heart he’d brought her. When he’d cleaned his plate and emptied his mug, the vespari pushed his stool back and stood up.

Knox swiveled around on her stool without getting up and smiled at him. “Sorry for the somber mood ‘round here. Guess two funerals in as many days takes its toll. We do appreciate what you’ve done for us though, Mr. Lockhart.”

He nodded and told her, “G-goodbye, Ms. Knox.”

Turning, Lockhart left the saloon and stepped out into the street. He looked in either direction for the general store that the mayor had mentioned, and when he located it in the distance, headed in its direction. He could refill his canteen at the well before he left, so water didn’t concern him, but food was a scarcer resource for him. His bag and most of his provisions had been lost some weeks back. It was a long shot that he’d find any ammunition, but after he’d wasted three bullets on the vishler, he could certainly use more.

There was one final item on his shopping list. He needed a batch of mad lotus. It was a type of flower that had a vine that when chewed or consumed caused hallucinations. Some could channel these hallucinations into prophetic visions. Given the beldam covens’ use of magic to escape him, he didn’t have many ways to track them. The mad lotus would give him some insight. The rest of the Vespari Brotherhood didn’t look so kindly on the herb, but he didn’t always see eye to eye with them. Most of them were back along the coastal cities anyway. Not too many braved the deserts like him. He was mostly on his own out there, and he did things his own way.

Lockhart stepped onto the wooden planks of the general stores walkway, gripped the handle of the door, and pushed it open. Inside, he saw another patron at the counter telling the woman what items he needed. As he did, the woman, presumably Brigette as Knox had indicated, grabbed them from the shelves and placed them on the counter for him. The woman noted him enter, but she continued to assist her other customer.

Entering and taking a few steps, Lockhart began to roam the aisles of her shop. Most of her wares looked mundane enough. Food and other provisions mostly. Bullets seemed ever more unlikely. Mad lotus even more so. Still, he had to check. Maybe she’d surprise him. After a few minutes, the other customer paid, collected their things and left, leaving Lockhart as the only patron in her store. Brigette wiped her hands on the white apron covering her dress and walked out from behind the bar to find him still perusing the shelves.

“Can I help you with something, mister?” she asked.

“Could use a b-b-bag stocked w-w-w-with traveling food,” he told her.

Brigette placed her hands on her hips. “You the vespari that Mayor Knox hired?”

Lockhart nodded.

“Is it done then? Mr. Brown’s killer dead?”

“Y-y-yes, ma’am.”

“Good riddance,” she said. Brigette turned around and returned to her counter. “So food, huh? How much you looking to spend?”